


Openings

by thingswithwings



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: BDSM, Chromatic Character, Community: femslash11, F/F, Family, Friends to Lovers, Interspecies, Mentor-Student Relationship, Mirror Universe, Pregnant Sex, Queer Families, Training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-16
Updated: 2011-08-16
Packaged: 2017-10-24 04:20:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/258943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thingswithwings/pseuds/thingswithwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Teach me," Ziyal says, breathless and young, breaking Kira's heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Openings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [parcequelle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/parcequelle/gifts).



> Note that the Kira/Intendant!Kira section contains unsafe/unnegotiated bondage, attempted manipulation, and the spectre of violence.

"Teach me," Ziyal says, breathless and young, breaking Kira's heart. She's holding a phaser rifle that bears a scar on the side from the last battle it was in, presumably when its previous owner was killed. There are so many answers to her request, all swimming together in Kira's mind, and when she tries to open her mouth to respond they all push up against each other and she says nothing.

"Please," Ziyal adds. She pauses, then speaks again, gives voice to one of the conflicting responses in Kira's head: "I need to learn to defend myself."

Kira is so caught in her inner conflict that she speaks more truth than she intends; looking at the comfortable grip that Ziyal has on the rifle, she says, "I – I wouldn't wish that life for you."

To her surprise, Ziyal's face softens, and she reaches out and places her hand on Kira's shoulder. Her touch is firm, kind, her skin Cardassian-cold.

"I would never have wished it for you, either," she says, and Kira is startled by the reminder that Ziyal too is no innocent. Ziyal's gaze is frank and unsettlingly penetrating. "But here we are."

When Kira moves to stand behind her, to cover Ziyal's arms with her own, to guide her hands on the rifle, the tension in Ziyal's shoulders relaxes and she leans back against Kira a little.

"Thank you," she says.

"Don't thank me yet," Kira mutters. "I may not be much of a teacher."

From this angle, she can just see the edge of the curve of Ziyal's smile. It's a dangerous smile, a revolutionary's smile, and Kira can't help but smile back.

-

When Starfleet first came to the station, Kira treated them all basically the same, not noticing individual features or personalities but simply uniforms, blue or red or gold, one pip or two or three. They were all the same anyway, and she was sure they'd be gone in a week or a month, and she didn't have time for them.

Kira had never had time for anyone, not really; she'd learned the hard way to move fast or else offer an easy target. Governments, politicians, battle strategies, friends – things that seemed stable could and would be gone tomorrow, and the only response to this was to take advantage of the opportunities of the day and be ready to clear out when allegiances shifted. She'd known people she trusted, people she loved fiercely, but the resistance formed hard friendships and hasty lovers, relationships as inevitable as the battle they were fighting, that warmed a bed for a night but left it cold in the morning.

So Kira didn't even notice, at first, that Jadzia brought her raktajino now and then, silently handing it across a console in the morning; that Jadzia took her to the holodeck once a month for something relaxing – the spa program, or hiking in the mountains on Trill; that Jadzia made time for her, made space in her life for Kira to occupy if she wanted it. She was so unobtrusive and so undemanding that Kira found herself reciprocating in kind without even thinking about it, asking Jadzia to lunch or out for a drink as if she had been doing it all her life, as if Jadzia was a person and not a uniform. As if Kira was herself someone made to occupy a home, have friends, tend relationships like delicate plants.

They worked together for over a year before Jadzia asked her out, and even then their relationship stayed chaste, almost platonic, their desire for each other signalled only in the lingering soft touches they exchanged while walking or eating together. Kira's skin felt sensitized, on fire with each simple, casual touch, and she wanted to push Jadzia up against a bulkhead somewhere and get her mouth on Jadzia's body but somehow she didn't; somehow she went along with the game Jadzia was playing and gave in to the slow, agonizing buildup of charge between them.

When Jadzia finally kissed her, one afternoon in a turbolift on the way out to the docking ring, Kira was so ready for it and so conditioned to their slow pace together that it didn't even occur to her to push, or to try to urge things on faster. She just opened her mouth slightly and shared breath, shared sensation, let the kiss take its own time.

"Nerys," Jadzia breathed, as their lips parted only slightly, and the mere sound of her own name sent a shiver down her spine.

"Yes," Kira said, and kissed her again, slowly, their lips wet and slick together.

-

"Take your time," Kira intones, watching Ziyal watch the holographic targets. "You have all the time in the world. Breathe. Watch. Wait."

Ziyal visibly gets control of her breathing, adjusts her grip on the rifle minutely. "It won't always be this way," she replies, but takes her time sighting a target anyway.

"No," Kira agrees. "Not always. But sometimes. For now, go slow."

Ziyal hits eight out of ten targets with her allotted fifteen shots; not bad.

"That's enough for today," Kira decides. "Let's end on a victory."

Ziyal smiles at her, the easy smile that makes Kira's heart want to break apart. "Thank you," she says.

"You're welcome," Kira replies softly. As they leave the holodeck, she places a warm, friendly hand in the small of Ziyal's back, a light touch, guiding her.

-

When Kira came out of the bathroom, Keiko was waiting for her, leaning her shoulder against the wall.

"Morning sickness?" Keiko asked, sympathetically. She placed a hand on Kira's belly, as she had almost every day since the baby was transferred, since the first time Kira pulled Keiko's hand towards her and gave her permission.

"Yeah. And here I thought, as a Bajoran, I'd be able to skip it. Instead I just get to sneeze while I vomit." She made a face.

Keiko laughed. "Well, I was throwing up night and day when I had the little guy inside me. At least it's eased off a bit."

Kira sighed and trundled herself over to the couch, where she took her time sitting down. "Yeah, that's a great comfort," she said, but smiled to make sure Keiko knew that she was joking. "Serves me right for being the first Bajoran surrogate to carry a fully human child."

Keiko sat down too, curled up next to her, and put her hand on Kira's belly again. "You always have to be a trailblazer," she murmured. Kira smiled.

There was a long, comfortable silence. Keiko kept her hand where it was, leaning in to put her head on Kira's shoulder, and Kira reached out to gently stroke Keiko's hair. Without thinking, she dropped a quick kiss on the top of Keiko's head, then froze, blushing. She had been through this already with Miles; she didn't want to make things even more complicated.

Keiko didn't seem fazed, though. She rubbed her fingers gently over the material of Kira's top. "Nerys," she said, then paused.

"What?" Kira prompted. Her heart was beating faster.

"Nerys, can I touch?" Keiko's frank gaze made her meaning clear, and Kira reached slowly down to pull up her shirt, exposing her stomach.

"I know it's a little weird," Keiko said haltingly, as her hand smoothed over Kira's skin, "but sometimes I feel as if we're sharing a body. Like there aren't barriers between us." Kira looked down at her in surprise.

"We two share a heartbeat," Kira said thoughtfully. At Keiko's inquisitive look, she added, "It's a Bajoran saying, it means that we walk in step together, that we're in sync. But in our case it's . . . literally true."

Keiko smiled. "That's it exactly." Then, slowly, she bent and kissed the bare skin just above what was left of Kira's navel. Kira shivered.

"Keiko, I'm not sure that – with Miles, and Molly – "

"I know you and Miles have feelings for each other," Keiko interrupted frankly. "He told me." Kira had expected jealousy, but Keiko just smiled softly, acceptingly, as she had whenever she'd walked in on Miles rubbing her feet or holding her hand. "I know that Miles and I love each other, and I know how I . . . feel about you." She took a deep breath. "So how do you feel about me?"

Kira's hand was still tangled in Keiko's hair; Keiko's head was still bent to Kira's belly. It was easy with her – _we two share a heartbeat_ – there was life inside her that used to live in Keiko. They shared blood. It was a kind of intimacy that went beyond attraction or desire or even love, but it included those things, too.

"I feel a little confused," Kira said, after some time. "I want – something. I don't know what I want." She let her hand slip down to Keiko's neck, pressing her a little closer.

Keiko raised an eyebrow. "Well, that's okay, too," she said, and sounded so much like the schoolteacher she'd been that Kira had to grin a little. "You can be unsure. Just – you're part of our family, Nerys."

"I know that." Kira breathed out slowly, rubbing her fingers against Keiko's neck. "I do know that."

Keiko bent again and kissed her belly, then looked up, cocked her head, and shifted upwards slowly, pressing another kiss to the hollow of her throat, and then up further, to press her mouth full and lush against Kira's. Kira kissed her back and let herself fall into the sensation. Keiko's smell was familiar, but the taste of her was new, exciting.

"Mmmm," Keiko murmured, as she pulled back. She opened her eyes, and there was a little mischief in them. "You know, I've heard these rumours about pregnant Bajorans . . . "

Kira laughed, the sound surprised out of her, and hit Keiko with a cushion. "And here I thought you and Miles were being so kind, not mentioning that vicious myth!" She gaped in mock-shock while Keiko fell against her, giggling. "We are not all crazed sex maniacs!"

"Wouldn't be bad if you were," Keiko offered, wide-eyed and innocent. "Miles and I together could probably match you. Especially since Shakaar doesn't get up to the station much."

"Mrs. O'Brien, I'm shocked," Kira replied, and, making her decision, pushed up as far as she could on her elbows to take a fast kiss. Keiko leaned down and kissed her back, harder, with promise. Kira responded eagerly, aching for her suddenly, and almost wished that the rumours about pregnant Bajorans were true.

"If you call me Mrs. O'Brien," Keiko whispered into her mouth, "I may have to call you Mrs. Ishikawa. Since you're having my baby." Kira grinned into their next kiss.

"My parents chose the name Kira together," she said. "A new name for their new family. A lot of Bajorans do."

"Well, I don't know what I would call us," Keiko breathed, nuzzling Kira's neck and teasing her hands over Kira's bare belly, "but we're certainly new."

-

"What do you see, when you look at the targets?"

Ziyal hesitates. "I see the targets," she says, eventually, though Kira's not sure that it was the first thought to come to her mind.

"Not Jem'Hadar soldiers?" Kira prompts.

"Or Cardassian soldiers, perhaps?" Ziyal returns. "I know what you're trying to say, Nerys, but I assure you: I won't hesitate. I am Cardassian enough for that, at least."

Kira grabs her arm, not hard enough to hurt, but not gently, either. "It's not that I don't trust you, Ziyal, it's just that I want to make sure you understand what the consequences might be. For you." Her voice softens. "So you can be prepared."

"I'm as prepared as I can be, I think." Her voice is steady and calm; Kira remembers that certainty, remembers when she had it herself.

"Prepared to fire on sentient beings? Your own people? Your own family?"

Ziyal shrugs deliberately, removing her arm from Kira's grip. "My mother is dead. My father betrayed me. I have no people. I have no family."

She turns and walks away. Kira knows the right words to say, and blurts them out before Ziyal can get too far down the corridor.

"You have me," she says.

Ziyal turns back, only for a moment, and her expression softens. "I know, Nerys," she replies.

-

The Intendant didn't wait to kiss her, and Kira didn't wait to shove at her shoulders, push her back against the wall, and put a knee between her thighs. This made the Intendant laugh.

"Oh, the rough stuff," she said, her voice light. "Well, if you can't trust yourself, who can you trust?" And Kira's heart was racing and she was angry and it was like being fifteen and a terrorist again, so she bit at the Intendant's neck, scratched at her skin, shoved at her clothes.

And she didn't object when the Intendant suggested handcuffs, telling herself that she could turn this situation to her advantage somehow, could incapacitate the Intendant and get away, contact Smiley, maybe Sisko . . .

"You can do whatever you want," the Intendant said, matter-of-factly securing one wrist to the bedpost. "Help me with the other one, will you?" Kira, half-numb, bent forward and cinched the cuff tight around the other wrist. "I am completely at your mercy. You can run off, if you like, or even kill me."

Kira shook her head. "This is another one of your games."

The Intendant shrugged, shimmying down the bed. "Maybe," she allowed, with a half-yawn.

Kira felt the rage flare up again, and she fell forward over her counterpart, pinning her torso to the bed. "What the hell do you think you're playing at?" she growled, and saw for a moment the gratifying answering spark of anger in the Intendant's eyes.

"I'm playing at nothing, _Nerys_ ," she bit out. "In fact, if anything, I would say that you're the one who's playing. Make a choice. Fuck me, or kill me, or leave me, but stop hesitating."

Kira only hesitated for another moment, long enough to see a contemptuous sneer start to form on the Intendant's face – her own face – before she began slowly, coldly, to remove her uniform.

"Oh, wonderful," the Intendant chirped, and Kira shivered.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, putting her things aside and beginning to unfasten the Intendant's clothes. As she bared skin, she bent to kiss what she had uncovered, pausing each time as if to collate the data.

"For the same reason you are," the Intendant answered, watching her with a glittering, fathomless gaze. "It's a rare opportunity, to be vulnerable before someone else. Seen. Known. Much less to be vulnerable before your own eyes."

Kira put her fingers inside the Intendant. She knew just how to move, just where to press, how hard, how long.

"We're not the same person," Kira protested, while the mirror version of herself writhed under her touch. Then, in a whisper, "and I should kill you."

The Intendant shoved her hips down, grinding herself against Kira's fast-moving hand. "You should," she panted, and the look on her face was one that Kira knew she'd never worn, one of complete abandon. "But you won't. Not like this. You – you need me."

Kira couldn't lie, so she said, "Yes," hissed the word out like an admission of guilt.

"Say we're the same," the Intendant gasped, as she started to shudder and clench around Kira's hand. "Say you love me."

Kira did.

-

On the night that Kira makes her decision, Ziyal opens her door when Kira comes to see her, and lets her in when Kira asks, and smiles a dark, satisfied smile when Kira bends to kiss her palm.

"Teach me," she grins, as she wrestles Kira out of her uniform, and Kira laughs, delighted.

"What – what exactly – " Kira pants, trying to get them over to the bed, " – did you want to learn?"

"Oh, you know," Ziyal grins, kissing her deeply, "all that Bajoran decadence that the Cardassians talk about would be a good start."

"I'll show you decadence," Kira mutters, and Ziyal laughs. They crumple to the bed together, a mass of half-naked limbs and twisted clothing. Ziyal pins her shoulders, not very well, but then, they haven't had many lessons in hand to hand combat yet. Kira nonetheless lets herself be pinned, lets Ziyal take her time and look her fill.

"I've wanted this for a long time," Ziyal says, matter-of-factly, as she kisses a slow line down Kira's neck and between her breasts. "But I told myself it would be asking too much of you, isn't that strange?"

"Wrong-headed," Kira replies, tangling her fingers in Ziyal's hair, "but not so strange. Ask me for anything you want."

"I want this," Ziyal says, and kisses her way further down. "I want you."

"You can have me," Kira says, and she means it.

-

It's long hours later before they finally wear each other out: Ziyal flung back against the pillows, one arm over her eyes, shivering and shuddering as Kira works her fingers and tongue faster and harder, pressing deep into her body and covering herself in the wet heat of her sex. Ziyal cries out one more time, arching up into the touch, then falling back again and drawing in a ragged breath, two, three, gasping for air as she comes back to herself.

"I hope you don't expect me to do anything more, after that," she says, and her words are a little slurred; Kira would feel smug if she weren't so exhausted.

"No, no. Really no. Just come here," Kira says, and gathers her into her arms. Ziyal chuckles softly into her chest.

"Did I really manage to tire out a Bajoran decadent?"

"You are a Bajoran decadent, I hate to tell you."

Ziyal laughs and kisses her mouth, tasting herself and hmmmm-ing happily. Kira kisses back, for a while, then sighs deeply and slings a leg over Ziyal's hip.

"Isn't it time now for protestations of endless love?" Ziyal teases. "A proposal, perhaps?"

Kira laughs, loving the hot, sweaty feel of her body against Ziyal's slightly cooler skin. "I propose that you stop being a brat and let me get some sleep," she grumbles, but she smiles at Ziyal, and strokes her hand along a lock of her dark, straight hair.

Ziyal kisses her briefly, sending a little aftershock of warm pleasure through her body. "Really, though," Ziyal says slowly, and Kira can hear in it again the youth and innocence that are gradually disappearing from her these days. "Do you think we'll have a happy ending?"

Kira sighs and kisses her shoulder; there's a shadow there that might be a Bajoran freckle. "It's better not to think about endings," she answers, eventually. "The beginnings of love stories are rarely tragic. First kisses, grand revelations – those are the moments to remember. To take with you."

"Our ending doesn't have to be tragic," Ziyal protests, quietly. She burrows further into Kira's embrace.

"No, it doesn't," Kira agrees. They fall silent together.

When Ziyal finally speaks, the suggestion of innocence has left her voice again. "Just in case, let's stay here, at the beginning. Forever." She sounds tired.

"Okay," Kira says, and laughs a little. "We'll stay eternally just beginning to fall in love."

Ziyal yawns. "Except don't forget you promised to teach me some hand to hand tomorrow," she says.

"Right."

"And I'm having lunch with Garak on Friday. You should come."

"Sure. If you'll come with me to watch the velocity championship game next week."

"Agreed," Ziyal murmurs, and then she says something else that Kira can't quite catch as she falls asleep.

Kira stays awake for a little while, watching the clock mark out the minutes, then falls asleep herself, safe and content, for the moment, in her lover's arms.


End file.
